


A Rare Brew

by mypoisonedvine



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Innocence, Loss of Virginity, Poisoning, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 10:40:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29294553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mypoisonedvine/pseuds/mypoisonedvine
Summary: The second he met you, Steve sensed your innocence.  So shy, so adorable, and so perfectly sheltered.  He knew instantly that he had to have you, that you would be the perfect blank slate to train into his obedient slut.  And the first real step of his plan began once he finally got you to join him for a drink.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 124





	A Rare Brew

“Drink?!” you replied incredulously to his proposition. Sure, he’d been hanging around your desk from time-to-time since you’d begun working as a graphic designer in Stark Tower, but you still never expected for Captain America to ask you on a date. That’s what this was right, a date? That’s what “join me for a drink” meant?

“It doesn’t have to be alcohol. Do you like tea?” he asked. Of course, he already knew that you did, because he’d been tracking your every move for a month now, but he feigned ignorance.

“I do,” you answered.

“Me too,” he smiled. “I’m sort of a tea snob, actually. I have some unique blends that I keep in my kitchen. It’s the one thing I spend a decent amount of money on.”

“I don’t want to waste your expensive tea,” you blushed.

“Sharing it is anything but a waste.”

You hesitated, finding it all a little too good to be true, but decided that moving to New York was about trying new things and experiencing life to the fullest– so why not? Plus, free tea!

“Sure,” you smiled shyly, “I’d love to have a cup with you sometime.”

“Why not tonight?”

“Oh, I’m sort of busy…”

“You have plans? With somebody else?” he asked in a way that felt a little aggressive, like he was accusing you of something. He knew you didn’t have plans, which was the real cause of his change in tone, but you didn’t realize that and let him call your bluff.

“No, I– it’s fine. I can work hard this afternoon and finish everything. Can my keycard even get me up to your floor?”

“Yeah, I’ll have somebody update your clearance in the database,” he offered. “I’ll leave you be now, so you can finish your work… don’t be late.”  
“Of course,” you nodded, watching him get up from where he was sitting on your desk before turning back to your screen and continuing progress on the logo you needed to finish.

~

You wished you’d dressed differently today as you rode the elevator up to Steve’s quarters. You hadn’t realized this morning that you’d be on a date with Captain America. You would’ve worn something fancier, flashier, and not your current, preppy-yet-plain work outfit. You were surprised that he would even want to go out with you when you were dressed like this.

“You can set your bag down on that table, if you’d like,” Steve offered when you stepped into his open door. He must have seen you clutching it for dear life. “You seem a little nervous.”

“I am,” you admitted. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he laughed, and you couldn’t tell if he meant “don’t be sorry” or “don’t be nervous.”

“I feel a little out of place knowing I’m in Captain America’s kitchen,” you explained. It was nice– everything was steel and sleek. Unexpectedly modern for a guy like him. You wondered if he was actually able to pick it out himself or not.

“You’re not out of place. This is exactly where you belong,” he dismissed. “So, I’ve got a whole cabinet of teas… you can try anything you like.” He opened a door to reveal an extensive collection– bags, looseleaf in jars, even an array of decorative steeping tools and a mortar and pestle. 

“You really are a tea snob!” you exclaimed. 

“You like it?”

“I don’t even know where to start,” you sighed.

“I do,” he grinned, reaching for a small black box. He opened it to reveal a few small bags. “I just picked this up recently. It’s incredible. If you’re a serious tea addict, this is the next step on your journey for sure.”

Just looking into the box, you could smell the aroma a bit. “It’s strong.”  
“Yeah, but there’s a mildness to it, too. You’d be surprised.”

“Okay, sure,” you smiled, “I’ll try it. You’re sure you don’t mind? It looks really expensive.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” he waved his arm, pulling out a bag and closing the lid. 

“You aren’t having any?” you asked.

“No, I’m gonna keep it simple tonight. I just want to watch you experience this.”

You were a little confused by that but said nothing, moving to take a seat at his dining table as he picked out a mug for you and filled it with water from the kettle. 

He steeped the bag for you, and you were shocked when he brought the mug only to see a deep red liquid inside. “I didn’t expect it to be this color.”  
“It’s the rosehips. And I bet you can smell the ginger.”  
“But there’s something else in it…” you realized as you let the steam rise into your face. “Is it… cayenne?”  
“Damn,” he laughed, “you know your teas. I was hoping to surprise you with the spiciness, but oh well.”

“It’s not gonna melt my face off or anything, right?”

“No, no, it’s just a little heat in the back of your throat. Nearly an aftertaste.”

You felt a little awkward as you realized he was staring at you while you went for your first sip. It was just a little too hot to drink but you kept on anyways. It was delicious, that much was obvious from the moment it hit your tongue. Swallowing it was what brought the heat he’d mentioned, though it was stronger than he described. Not too spicy, thankfully, but it was definitely apparent. There was something unexpected about the flavor. Maybe it was just the way the natural acidity of the ginger mixed with the spiciness of the cayenne. There was an earthiness to it as well, moreso than you were used to from rosehips. 

You didn’t notice the sweetness until you had swallowed your sip completely– it was that kind of sweetness that you could only taste on the sides of your tongue, bright and fruity.

You looked to where Steve was watching you expectantly and gave him an approving nod. He smiled.

“It’s good,” you informed him.

“Just good?”

“No, it’s… it’s really good. It’s great. I’m still processing it, honestly. It’s very complex.”  
  


The mug was half-empty when you started to feel… off. Tea always warmed your chest from the inside out, but suddenly the warmth was beginning to spread. You didn’t even notice it until you started to feel a little light-headed, like you had just woken up from a dream, or maybe like you were just beginning to have one.

Steve was talking about something but you couldn’t pay attention anymore as you tried to understand what was happening. You felt like you needed to go to the bathroom, or maybe you needed to take a cold shower, or maybe you needed some air… but you really, really needed _something_.

You realized that Steve wasn’t talking anymore. You looked to him and saw him staring at you, his eyes trailing to your chest which heaved with quickened breaths.

“Steve, what… what’s happening?” you whimpered as you felt your knees shake a little, your whole body becoming weak and tingly. Your core ached in a way you didn’t understand, and you pushed your thighs together without realizing you were doing it. 

“Is the tea getting to you? It’s a very rare brew… I’ll admit I’ve never tried it before. I didn’t realize it would be so fast-acting,” his eyes got a little darker and his voice got deeper as he watched you unintentionally roll your hips against the chair, “or so strong.”

“What’s in this?” you asked nervously, staring at the mug as if it would suddenly reveal its own contents.

“Exactly what I said was in it: rosehips, ginger, cayenne. I just forgot to mention the black market aphrodisiac.”

You whimpered in fear, your hands gripping the ceramic so tight that your nails dug into your own palm. You felt hot, suddenly, and yet you found yourself wishing Steve was standing closer. Your eyes trailed over his body as they welled with tears.

“Don’t worry!” he piped up. “It’s organic!”

“I don’t feel well,” you murmured, “I don’t… I need to go…”

“No, baby, you need to stay here,” he cooed, moving closer to you and sliding an arm over your shoulders. His touch made your skin erupt with goosebumps and you suddenly wished that you weren’t wearing a cardigan and that he was touching you with nothing in the way.

“S-steve?” you whispered. “What… why?”

“Shh, I’m gonna take care of you, okay? You’re gonna feel so good.”

You knew he was right, and even as a little part of your mind was screaming that this was not right, that this was not going to go well, you melted into his touch as he scooped you into his arms and carried you to his bedroom.

You whimpered as he set you down on the fluffy quilt, feeling like a doll in his strong grip.

He reached up to push off your cardigan and start unbuttoning your blouse.

“Steve, what– what are you–” you gurgled.

“Shh,” he soothed, but refused to explain. He pushed open your shirt to find your nipples visibly hard through your bra. “Oh, baby,” he praised, “you’re so needy, huh? You want me so bad.”

You yelped when he grabbed your bra and tore it open from the front, exposing your breasts to the colder air. And yet his hands were so warm, hot even, as they grabbed them and massaged them and traced over your nipples. It felt good, nothing like you expected it to. You hadn’t even realized it could feel good to be touched here. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, “been thinking about these since you first came in for that interview. Did you even realize how perfect your tits looked in that dress?”

You had no earthly idea what he was talking about. And it scared you, even as your body begged for more; your back arched, pushing your chest into his hands.

“How do you feel?”

“I…” you began, unable to find the words. “Sore. Achy. It hurts.”

“Where does it hurt, baby?”

You blushed but couldn’t answer.

“Does it hurt between your legs?” he asked with a low voice.

“Yes,” you admitted, “please, Steve, help me.”

“I’m gonna help you, I promise. Gonna make you feel so good.”

His hands moved down to your skirt which he pushed up to find white cotton panties– soaked as you squirmed under his touch.

“Oh,” he groaned, clenching his jaw, “no wonder it hurts. You’re dripping.”

He reached down and pulled the fabric aside, nearly coming right then and there as he saw your perfect little pussy; he had to look away for a second to compose himself, before turning back and biting his lip as he rediscovered it all over again.

“So wet,” he purred, “so wet for me.” He slipped a finger over your folds and you gasped, your legs kicking a bit. 

“I’m not supposed to…” you began with a whimper. “I’m not supposed to let people touch me there.”

“Almost,” he nodded. “You can’t let anybody but me touch you here. Do you understand?”

No, you thought silently. “Yes,” you answered aloud, fearing the response to any other answer.

“Good.” His finger suddenly moved to something that made your leg jerk as pleasure jolted through your body. He touched it again and you moaned before you could stop yourself. You tried to ask him what was going on but he just kept going, drawing little circles around the spot, until you were a total mess with no shot at forming sentences any time soon.

Something was building in you, something so powerful that you couldn’t keep from moving your hips against his hand and you couldn’t stop yourself from gasping and moaning desperately. Suddenly, his hand pulled back and you bucked up against nothing.

“Why… why did you stop?” you asked breathlessly.

“You were about to come,” he explained.

“I was?”

“Yes, but you have to ask my permission before you do that. Okay?”

“O-okay,” you nodded. “Will you… touch me again, please?”

“Hmm…” he considered.

“Please, please Steve, touch me more,” you whined, “I’ll be good, just please–”

He finally acquiesced and began rubbing circles around your clit again. “I know you’ll be good,” he praised, “you’ll be good and come for me, won’t you?”

“Yes, yes, I will,” you promised with a sob. He wrapped his other arm around you and pulled you close until you were surrounded by him, your face buried into the crook of his neck.

“Say my name when you come,” he demanded. “Always say my name when you come.”

“Can I?” you murmured.

“Ask nicer,” he instructed.

“May I please come, Steve?” you repeated, louder.

“Yes,” he hissed, and his name poured from your lips in a chanted moan as you came, your whole body tensing up all at once as electricity tingled across your skin.

Only for a second did you feel relief before the feeling of need got even worse. “Do it again,” you demanded, “make me come again.”

You were sobered out of your trance with a restrained slap across the face. You gasped as your eyes shot open. “Never tell me what to do,” he barked. “You take what I give you, okay? I know what you need.”

“Yes, Steve, I’m sorry,” you whimpered, eyes welling with tears. 

“I forgive you. Now lay back. I’m gonna make you feel good again, but I’m going to do it my way.”

You were apprehensive but felt you had no choice but to do as he asked. You laid back on the bed and watched with wide eyes as he stripped, pulling off his t-shirt and making quick work of his boots, belt, and jeans. You gasped when you saw the shape of his cock through his boxers. 

“Have you ever seen a cock before?” he asked with a serious tone.

“Once,” you admitted. “On a dare. I watched porn.”

“Then you know what I’m going to do with this,” he presumed as he rubbed the shape of it through the fabric.

“You’re… you’re going to put it in me,” you realized with a gasp.

He pulled his boxers down to reveal it in its full glory and you scrambled backward on the bed.

“Steve, it’s too big,” you whimpered, “it won’t fit.”

“You’d be surprised,” he laughed, climbing on top of you and pinning you down. “It’s what it’s made for, doll, it’s what _you’re_ made for. You can take it. You will take it.”

“Steve, I–” you whimpered, but he was already touching you down there again and suddenly you couldn’t think straight.

He slipped a finger into you and hissed at the feeling of your soaked walls fluttering around him. You bit your lip and tried to focus on anything else.

“You’re so tight,” he praised. “Too bad it’ll go to waste; with a cock like this, it really doesn’t matter.”

You nearly screamed as he pushed into you. You felt like your whole body had to relax to fit him and even then, you felt him molding you to his shape, stretching and opening you to his will.

Your head was spinning from the unbelievable mix of pleasure and pain, satisfaction and need, fear and hope. 

When he was finally sheathed inside you entirely– a moment you thought might never arrive– he stilled and let his head fall back with a choked moan.

“God, it’s so good. You’re so good. Knew you would be.”

You could only choke on nothing as he pulled back out only to slam back home. He moved with slow but deep thrusts, pulling noises from you that you couldn’t even believe were originating from your body. You grabbed onto his arms and gripped them for dear life as his movements rocked you on top of the bed. You could feel how wet you were, you could hear how wet you were, as he slid himself into you each time. He looked down at you and smiled at your flushed face, hair sticking to your skin from a thin layer of sweat, eyes wrenched shut yet mouth fallen open into a perfect little moan… you looked exactly how he’d pictured you that first time he met you. You were exactly as perfect as he’d imagined.

“Steve, Steve, I need to– please let me–” you whimpered.

“Not yet,” he frowned, and you whined with frustration.

“ _Please_ ,” you cried. 

“Don’t beg,” he sternly warned. “It’s unbecoming of a lady to beg. I’ll let you come when I’m ready for you to come, alright?”

“Yes, Steve,” you sighed, putting all your energy into holding back the wave of pleasure threatening to break through at any moment. His own moans got louder as he started moving faster inside you, balls slapping against your ass with a lewd clapping sound.

He could feel how badly you needed to come, but he needed you to prove you could be good for him and obey. “Fuck, baby,” he cooed, “so good. Fuck, just hold on a little longer.”

“Steve, please,” you sobbed.

“Say that you’re mine,” he growled. “Say that you belong to me.”

You blushed just hearing it, but you knew that the time for pearl-clutching had long since passed. You would do anything to come at that moment. 

“I’m yours, Steve,” you sobbed, “I belong to you. Please let me come.”

“Fuck,” he moaned in approval, “so good. Just like that. Say it when you come. Say it when I come inside you.”

“Steve!” you cried out. “I’m yours, please!”

You lost track of what you were saying as he slammed into you so deep that it made your head hurt. All you could understand was the feeling of his cock flexing inside you, painting your walls with an absurd amount of thick, hot cum.

He moaned your name as he did it and you felt dizzy. He stayed like that for a while, holding you down even as you tried to squirm away to avoid the overstimulation of him inside you.

Finally, after what felt like forever, he pulled out, leaning back to watch his cum drip out of your hole. He felt a sense of accomplishment as he compared how your pussy looked now to how it had when he first saw it. There was a tinge of guilt for ruining you so thoroughly, of course, but pride as well.

“Why do I still feel funny?” you groaned as he laid down beside you. “I thought it would go away, once you… did that.”

“Oh, it lasts all night,” he shrugged. “Don’t worry, I just need a few minutes to recover and I’m gonna fuck you again. At least, as long as you ask nicely.”


End file.
